


The Devil in the Details

by FireEye



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Genderswap, Other, Possession, Psychological Horror, trope bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireEye/pseuds/FireEye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein the Denizens of the Black Lodge wrap Harry Truman around Dale Cooper's little finger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil in the Details

The bathroom door was sturdier than it looked.  It resisted his first kick, cracked on the second, and finally buckled on the third, crashing into the wall and bouncing back towards him as he took an appraisal of the scene before him.

The mirror above the sink had shattered, a spider’s web of cracks radiating out from a point of impact.  Blood dribbled down the cracks from the wound in the glass, spattering bright in the sink and dark across the counter.  Droplets pooled upon the polished floor, dripping from the heel of Cooper’s palm, trickling down her fingers where they pressed against her forehead.  Unstaunched, blood trailed down her face, splitting into two rivulets on either side of her nose.

“Good, God,” Hayward swore.  Pushing past Truman, the doctor grabbed the handtowel from the far side of the sink and turned on the faucet.  Truman followed, crouching by the woman on the floor and mindful, as an afterthought, of the scattered grains of glass.

Light flickered in the depths of her eyes.  Her chest convulsed – half a breathless gasp, half a soundless chuckle.

“I slipped.”

“Yeah,” Truman agreed, solemn.  Glass crunched under his boot.  “You sure did.”

With all due care, he brushed the tiny, bloodied fragments of mirror out of her hair.  Evidently, a few of them had bitten deeper than a scratch.

Hayward joined them on the floor, pulling Cooper’s hand away from her face.  Cooper winced as the doctor assessed the damage.

“I slipped,” she repeated, all traces of humor gone.

Hayward didn’t answer, set to the task removing the embedded glass gently, piece by piece; he dabbed at the mess of blood with the cold, soaked towel, before wrapping Cooper’s fingers around it and pressing her hand back against her forehead to stem the bleeding.

He gestured to the sheriff over her head, then towards the door.

Truman nodded in reply.

“Come on,” he said, reaching around Cooper’s back and under her shoulders to pull her to her feet.  “Let’s get you back to bed.”

At the first step, Cooper’s face twisted, and a soft gasp of pain brought Truman’s attention to the glass scattered across the floor... and to the fact that Cooper was still barefoot.  Without a second thought, he lifted her off the floor, carrying her away from the whole mess.

Over the threshold of the bathroom door, Truman paused.  Blood and water soaked through his shirt where Cooper rested her head against his shoulder, and when he glanced down, she was studying him gravely from under long eyelashes and the shadow of the powder-blue handtowel.

She was trembling like a leaf.

Not anticipating his abrupt halt, Hayward stumbled around them, heading for the phone.  Truman swallowed his discomfort, carrying Cooper towards the bed.  He set her down gently; pulling the comforter off the bed, he cocooned it snugly around her shoulders. 

Her hand began to drop, and he sat down next to her, reaching around her shoulders and pressing the makeshift compress back in place.

“You’re gonna be okay...”  Truman glanced across the room at Hayward, who was grumbling in low tones over the receiver.

“Harry?” Cooper’s voice, soft and distant, brought him back.  “Thank you.”

Puzzled, Truman studied the cracks on the floorboards between his boots.  He didn’t know what she was thanking him for.  “...don’t mention it.”

“Harry?”

His head jerked up.  “Yeah?”

Light flickered in the depths of her hazel eyes.  She licked her bloodied lips.

“Thanks,” she said, the shadowed memory of an earnest grin ghosting across her face, “for bringing me back.”

Truman blinked, and sighed, squeezing her shoulder.  “Anytime.”

The disquiet that had spent the last day worming through his gut coiled, cold and tight, around his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> -So about two weeks ago, I had three dreams, three nights in a row that were Twin Peaks themed... except they all contained a female Agent Cooper. This theme repeated in dreams sporadically throughout the following week. One dream I might've passed off as a quirk, three dreams is a bit much, a week-ful is simply overkill. Clearly _something_ in All Creation really wanted f!Cooper to come into being, [even if it was only my subconscious].
> 
> -My first thought was to do something with Audrey and Cooper, but I couldn't figure out what. Thinking on it, it seemed to me that many if not most of the scenes would play out similarly, however select key scenes might not. Of course, post-finale is relatively free reign. [Of course, I also still have no idea how BOB works.]
> 
> -This may go somewhere, if I can figure out where to take it. Backwards or forwards or both or lateral or parallel or all of the above. At once. [On that note, this is actually the third fic I wrote with this premise since my little dreamfest. I may post the other two if I can polish them up a little, but they need the polish.]
> 
> -I'm not new to Twin Peaks, but this is the first time I've stepped into Twin Peaks fandom... HELLO TWIN PEAKS FANDOM!
> 
> -If you know what it means, please tell me because I sure as heck don't. ;)


End file.
